Temporary partner
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: Doyle's new partner has an agenda all of his own


Chapter 1

Bodie limped out of radiology on crutches and announced that he'd be out of action for ten days.

"Ten days!" exploded Doyle. "How did you manage to swing that one?"

"I'm in agony, mate," Bodie protested, but his acting was spoilt by a grin that he couldn't keep from his face.

"It's not even broken," Doyle grumbled as they made their way back to the car.

Cowley had also been dismayed at the length of time Bodie was to take off. "Well we can't argue with the doctors can we?" he asked Doyle rhetorically next day.

_Never stopped you before,_ Doyle thought mutinously.

"So I think I should team you up with a new recruit, Radcliff, while Bodie is –"

"- swinging the lead."

"- on sick leave," Cowley finished firmly, but a smile twitched his face.

Doyle was given the job of interviewing witnesses with Radcliff to see where the investigation went from there. He found Radcliff in the Mess and introduced himself. The man didn't seem to be over-flowing with warmth and goodwill, but Doyle put it down to shyness at a new job. In the car Doyle asked the usual questions about which service Radcliff was from and why he decided to throw in his lot with CI5. His answers were curt and the conversation lapsed more into a formal interview with Doyle asking all the questions, so he gave up. Radcliff didn't contribute much to the conversations with the witnesses either and Doyle was left wondering how committed the man was to the service.

Radcliff was dropped off at his digs that evening but Doyle wasn't invited in. He'd had enough of the man's company for one day so was glad of his rudeness. Radcliff looked out at Doyle from his window. Once his car had disappeared, Radcliff sneaked out of a back entrance and made a circuitous route to a flat off the main road near the town centre. Letting himself in, he called out. His friend sauntered out of the living room to greet him, kissing him warmly.

"How did your day go, dear?" he asked, going back into the lounge to pour a drink for them both.

Radcliff rolled his eyes. "Rotten thanks, Len. The bugger's a right question and answer man. A copper right down to his back teeth."

"Well that's not very far is it, John" his friend replied, provocatively running his hand down Radcliff's shirt.

"You know what I mean, Len." But the day's tension had eased out of him as Len had hoped it would, and they spent a relaxed evening together before Radcliff made his similarly circuitous journey back to his CI5 flat for the night.

The next few days were an act of sparring and fencing between Doyle and his temporary partner. On the third evening Doyle finally managed to get hold of Bodie at home. He offloaded his anger on to his very understanding partner. Bodie poured a glass of wine and steered Doyle into the living room.

"Now you've got that out of your system, put your feet up and I'll get you dinner."

Doyle apologised for his behaviour.

"He must be bad if you're in the mood for apologies."

"Look, let's forget about the hideous Radcliff," Doyle called tiredly from the lounge, stretching himself out on the couch, "how's the agonising ankle? Still giving you gyp is it?"

Bodie could hear the smirk in Doyle's voice.

"Keeping me awake every night."

"Yeah, but how's the ankle?"

Bodie limped in with a plate of curry.

"Did you make this?" Doyle asked incredulously, sitting up as Bodie put the tray on his lap.

Bodie smiled, "What do you think?" It was good to see Doyle looking more relaxed now.

His friend tasted the pungent stew, rolling it round his mouth, savouring it. He hadn't eaten well for a few days now. Stress did that to him. "Whoever she is, she's a good cook Bodie. I think you should keep her on the staff."

Bodie grinned proudly and told Doyle about the landlady's buxom daughter with whom he'd formed a recent attachment.

"So that sprained ankle is going to stretch into infinity is it while I'm lumbered with the odious Radcliff?"

"I thought we weren't going to mention him?"

"You're right – not often mind - but you are right." Doyle then changed the subject and left around midnight in a much happier frame of mind.

However, the pleasant evening was a thing of the past once Radcliff got into the passenger seat next morning. Doyle had told himself that he should get to know the man; it may make him more human. So at the end of the day, despite strong feelings to the contrary, Doyle suggested that they finish off at the pub.

"I wondered when you'd mention it. I thought that veterans kept themselves to themselves. Not breaking rank and slumming it are you?" Radcliff commented pompously.

Doyle ground his teeth and said that if Radcliff didn't want to make the effort, he wouldn't either. It was no skin off his nose. However, Radcliff deigned to sup with his new partner. In the pub Doyle was relieved to see a few friendly faces and exchange pleasantries with them. It diluted Radcliff's company for a while. During the evening he noticed that Radcliff's gaze seemed to wander in the male rather than female direction. There was a particularly lovely bevy of blondes a few tables from them, for instance, to whom Radcliff didn't give a second glance. Doyle began to wonder.

Chapter 2

A few days later Doyle was heading towards Radcliff's flat to drop him off (he couldn't wait) when he spotted Bodie limping down the high street. Radcliff had asked about Bodie but Doyle had told him little (he too could be brusque). He pulled over and got out. Unfortunately Radcliff followed him, perhaps imagining that Doyle had spotted a contact. Doyle introduced the pair. Bodie put his bias to one side, smiled politely and held his hand out in greeting. With sweating palms and racing heart Radcliff clutched Bodie's hand and gazed into the most beautiful pair of eyes he'd seen for a very long time. (Sorry, Len!)

"Something wrong?" Bodie asked, with a touch of anger at the edges.

"Er, no, no. Just that I thought we'd met somewhere before," Radcliff lied. Those eyelashes!

"We haven't," Bodie said forcefully, prising his hand off Radcliff's. Turning to his partner, he told Doyle that, if he'd wait till he'd finished, Doyle could take him home.

"I'm not your chauffeur," Doyle grumbled happily as Bodie made his way inside the grocer's. "And get me a couple of onions while you're in there," he called.

They waited outside and Doyle stole a glance at his temporary partner. He was tempted to ask Radcliff where he was meant to have met Bodie. The man himself came back shortly with his shopping. Doyle took the bags off him and shoved them into Radcliff's arms. Bodie smirked. This was an interesting partnership! At the car, Doyle gave Radcliff the crutches too as Bodie settled himself in the front seat. Things between the pair were worse than Bodie had imagined.

That night Radcliff couldn't wait to join his friend. They'd agreed to go to a club that evening and, as they got ready in Len's flat, Radcliff described Bodie in every loving detail.

"You've got a pash," Len declared gleefully.

"I have not," John returned, grinning. His passions were a point of teasing between them. Fortunately John always returned to his partner and Len, eventually, forgave him his infidelity.

The week dragged on with the operatives getting no closer to each other. However, when Radcliff's sniping crept across the threshold into the living rooms of witnesses and contacts, Doyle rounded on him in the car. His criticism turned into a row with both giving it their all. Stopping round the corner from their last visit, Doyle took a deep breath.

"Look, Radcliff. We are going to make this our last appointment for the day. We leave our anger in the car, right? You do not say anything other than relating to the job in hand, ok?"

"Teach me how to breathe in and out why don't you?" Radcliff snapped back.

He wasn't making life easy for himself. Doyle closed his eyes and tried to still his mind.

"Meditation now is it?" Radcliff quipped. He was treading on dangerous ground.

Doyle got out of the car as calmly as he could and was determined to conduct a professional interview whatever the provocation. And he certainly was provoked. At one point even the woman turned on Radcliff and called him a "nasty piece of work". Doyle was pleased that it wasn't just him who found Radcliff unbearable. He told his partner to wait in the car. He wouldn't; daring Doyle to force him to. Doyle refused to rise to the bait and concluded the interview for the day. As Radcliff sauntered to the car, Doyle held back and apologised to the woman for his partner's behaviour, excusing it as him being new to the job. She respected Doyle's loyalty but she would not open her door to CI5 again. Doyle said that if he came on his own, could she bear a second visit? He put on his best smile for her. She blushed prettily and began to waiver.

"We're not all boors you know," he pushed.

She eventually relented under the firm promise that Radcliff stay out of her way.

Doyle said nothing on the drive back, but once at HQ he threw himself out of the car and took the stairs to Cowley's office two at a time. The exercise took some of the edge off his rage. Panting, he arrived at the 5th floor and was glad to see that the corridor was empty. He hovered outside Cowley's door and reflected. As his anger ebbed and his mind cleared he began to doubt the purpose of his visit. Was he really the kind of man who would run to teacher because he was pushed in the playground? What did that make him? Blast the man. Doyle turned away, disgusted at himself. However, on his way back down the stairs he bumped into Cowley.

"Ah, Doyle. I wanted a word with you."

Doyle mentally cursed fate and the heavens but trailed back upstairs with his boss and closed the door behind them.

"How are things with Radcliff?"

Doyle wondered why Cowley was asking. "Ok," he replied guardedly.

"Not what I've heard," the Cow pressed.

"Well not from me."

"I know you don't gossip, Doyle," Cowley began as he made a cup of tea. "But I value your opinion and I want to know what kind of man I have." He pushed the tea into Doyle's hand. He knew that he couldn't get round him with flattery but it was a starting point. His operative remained immersed in his tea, saying nothing. Cowley would have to try more direct tactics.

"For a start, as men of the world, I'd like to know if you're aware of Radcliff's proclivities."

That provoked a reaction. The barrier behind Doyle's eyes was almost physical. He tensed.

"Why do you ask that, sir? I know you own us body and soul, but surely a man's leanings are his own affair?"

"Aye, lad – providing they're declared. Shocking though it is, some men lie on their application forms." Cowley clicked his tongue and shook his head sadly.

Doyle thought his boss was being sarcastic, but had started wonder whether homosexuality was a bar to entering CI5 – it wasn't something that he'd ever had to consider before.

"I don't know what Radcliff gets up to, sir. He certainly hasn't said anything to me about his friendships."

"What's your feeling?" the Controller pressed.

Doyle felt he was treading on delicate ground. He didn't want to defend the odious Radcliff but he didn't want him to be thrown out of the service on rumour and vague feelings from his temporary partner. So he diverted the conversation away from sexual matters and confessed that he wasn't getting on with Radcliff. He found him boorish and unproductive at interview. He'd prefer to work on his own until Bodie returned. He looked very uncomfortable. Even this small confession felt like a betrayal.

"I know a little about his interview techniques lad. I've had two complaints already. I also know about your temper and I'm pleased to see that you're keeping it in check – aren't you?"

Cowley was fishing. Doyle knew but was too drained to resist. He passed a hand over his weary eyes and sighed. "We did have a row in the car this afternoon, sir, but I was determined that it wasn't going to colour the interview with Mrs Jones. She did say though that any follow-up had to be without Radcliff. They didn't get on."

"Very diplomatic Doyle. Do you want some aspirin?" He fished in his drawer and handed over a packet. His operative was looking not too well at all.

Shyly Doyle took the pack and Cowley gave him a glass of water and another cup of tea.

"All right, Doyle. I'll take pity on you and take Radcliff off you. You can finish this up on your own. From his reports, Radcliff doesn't seem to be taking this very seriously and letting you do all the work."

"Why did he join, sir? I did ask him but he didn't really give me an answer."

"He didn't really give me one either. He's only on temporary contract here anyway. But that's just between the two of us for the moment, eh?"

Doyle couldn't think of a time when Cowley had confided in him and felt honoured. He nodded his assent. He wouldn't even tell Bodie. Doyle could keep his secrets.

Chapter 3

Radcliff could keep secrets too. He'd been keeping secrets since a boy. As he grew up and knew where his heart was leading him, his life had become a web of lies and deceits. When he'd found some of his own kind in his late teens it was a wonderful liberation. In the clubs he'd been introduced to, he felt that no-one was judging him or worse. He could be himself. Eventually Len became the rock of his life. Despite straying on both sides they always found each other again. Len seemed able to contain his 'pash' to their community, but John could fall instantly in love with straight guys as well as gays. In the case of Bodie, he knew he'd have to keep that 'pash' very much to himself. Bodie had declared himself in ways he himself wouldn't have understood. But John did. John could read that particular book. Bodie was straight and that was all there was to it. That didn't stop Radcliff fantasising though.

Radcliff was used to the clandestine. His job as listener at MI5 suited him well. When Doyle had dropped Bodie off that time they met on the high street, it was a golden opportunity. Radcliff now knew where Bodie lived and staked out the place when the odd evening and time off presented itself. He was on a case now – his own personal case. He felt closer to Bodie in those furtive moments; their lives entwining. Radcliff was also a very good photographer which both MI5 and CI5 had found useful, particularly for night surveillance. He obsessively took photos of his 'target' entering and leaving his flat, and with his girlfriend in the street. Every now and then his 'pash' would look round as he heard – or thought he did – the click of a camera shutter. Radcliff giggled secretly to himself as Bodie scented the air and then shook his head in bafflement. _Not as smart as you'd like to think, are you Handsome_? Radcliff thought to himself. His growing anger and resentment at the prig Doyle had as much to do with jealousy than anything. He'd heard the pair of them in the front of the car when they'd taken Bodie home. How easy they were with each other, how the conversation flowed. Radcliff, not for the first time, had felt very excluded. He felt the old anger rising like a physical pain.

Doyle was on his way to a meeting with a contact when he saw Bodie coming out of the bookies. He was off his crutches now and walking a lot better. He should be back in harness within a few days. Doyle couldn't wait. He pulled up and offered a coffee. Bodie got in the car, counting his winnings. His friend took him to a high class tea room, though neither of them was dressed for the part.

"Why here?" Bodie asked, looking round and feeling underdressed.

"Cos you're paying with your winnings," Doyle grinned.

Seeing the look on his friend's face, Doyle relented and said that he'd pay if Bodie would listen to his moaning. The tea room was less packed than the local caff so they'd be less likely to be overheard. Unknown to Doyle, Radcliff had been taken off assignment for the day and had followed the pair. He could be very invisible when he chose. He couldn't hear the conversation from where he sat behind a pillar but he could see Bodie from a large mirror and that was sufficient for him. He watched again the ease between the friends and hugged his pain like a comfort.

After offloading again, Doyle rounded up with the good news that Radcliff had been taken off him. Doyle didn't know who was the next victim to be teamed up with him. He didn't mention his suspicions (and Cowley's) of Radcliff's leanings – it was no-one's business – nor that Radcliff was temporary to CI5 (interesting that Radcliff hadn't mentioned that either, Doyle thought suddenly).

"Ok Bodie. You've been very good and listened to me whining for most of the morning. How's your life – outside of the bedroom?" he added quickly.

Finishing off the scones, Bodie gave him an outline of his week and remarked that Doyle was looking tired and should try for some leave.

"Well, I could always pretend to sprain my ankle."

Click, click.

Bodie sat up attentively. "Hear that?"

"Yeah. Sounded like … Well, not sure to be honest. I'd need to hear it again."

"I'll tell you what it sounded like to me. A camera."

Doyle shrugged. "Yeah, could be."

"It's not the first time, either. And … no."

"Come on Bodie. Level with me."

Bodie sighed. "It'll sound daft."

Doyle said nothing but grinned at Bodie's embarrassment, trying to catch his eye.

"Ok. I think I'm being followed."

"And photographed?"

"Yeah, ok. Stupid."

Doyle thought for a while. In their line of work it was a possibility (as was a stalking ex-girlfriend). "No, Bodie," Doyle said at last. He was taking this more seriously than Bodie had imagined. "How long have you thought you were being followed?"

"Well, doctor, I think I could be schizophrenic but I'm in two minds about it!" Bodie gurned.

"Come on, Bodie, cut the jokes."

"Well, for the past four or five days. Just a feeling, then that odd clicking noise. You know, it's like if I turn round suddenly I'll see someone, except that I don't," he shrugged apologetically.

Doyle looked at his friend for a few moments. "I don't think you're going nuts Bodie. I think you should tell Cowley."

"So he can tell me I'm going nuts instead?"

Radcliff's name kept jumping round Doyle's mind as soon as Bodie had mentioned his ghost. He thought back to Radcliff's reaction when he met Bodie for the first time in the high street. But Doyle felt that he was adding two to the possibility of two and getting a potential of four.

"Ok," Doyle said, "leave it, but that clicking is real even if your ghost isn't – maybe."

Bodie's first assignment on returning from sick leave was to go to Scotland to bring back a con man. It was felt that he'd give no bother so Bodie went on his own. Doyle couldn't believe his partner's luck and wanted to know his secret with the Old Man. He reminded Doyle that the ankle was still a bit dodgy so he could only have soft assignments for a while. The job went well and after an overnight stay he returned across the border with his 'guest'. Doyle caught up with him that night and asked whether his ghost had followed him north. Bodie said he didn't think so. Doyle then told his partner that he'd put in for leave. He hadn't had any for a few months now, and the odious Radcliff – though no longer with him – had left him exhausted. Cowley hadn't objected and, to Doyle's surprise, was granted two weeks' leave with immediate effect.

"And you're surprised?" Bodie asked over curry at their favourite restaurant.

"Well, we both usually have to do a bit of begging. You know Cowley likes the power game."

"You obviously haven't seen yourself in the mirror lately, mate. You're a ghost in all but name. There's hardly a touch of colour in you – 'cept for the black under your eyes. I'm amazed you're still standing."

"Ok, don't go on. So, with me out of the running, perhaps you'll get the ravishing Radcliff!"

Bodie rolled his eyes. "From the brief encounter I had with him, you're welcome to him."

"Hmm. You did say 'brief encounter', didn't you?" Doyle teased – referring to an old romantic weepie. "Your eyes met over the fruit and veg, did they?" he added camply.

Bodie looked around to see if he could get away with some colourful language in the packed restaurant when his eye caught a movement and someone making a hasty exit through the kitchen. Doyle followed his friend's gaze.

"Your ghost?" enquired Doyle seriously, not having seen anything.

Bodie looked at him shyly. "I'm losing it, mate," he lamented.

"Look. Tell Cowley. He can put a watch on you for a few nights. It'd put your mind at rest – and mine."

A furtive look crossed Bodie's face. "Well, you've just got leave, Doyle. We could keep this between ourselves, couldn't we?"

"You've just been telling me that I'm about to collapse at any moment, now you want me to do surveillance?"

Bodie smiled his little boy lost smile which he knew usually won Doyle round.

"Two nights, Bodie. That's all I'm giving you, so don't give me the run-around."

Bodie grinned broadly. He wasn't going to tell his partner how relieved he was to have him at his back again. He gave Doyle his plans for the next 48 hours.

"I'm not tailing you all day and all night too."

"Only when I'm alone and off shift."

Doyle looked unconvinced but reluctantly agreed.

Chapter 4

Next day Bodie was on assignment so Doyle took a rest at home, but lurked in the shadows of his friend's apartment throughout the night. A bleary-eyed partner met Bodie on the doorstep the following morning. Bodie pretended to be concerned and made breakfast as Doyle took a shower and shaved. Doyle hadn't seen anything unusual. A few criminal activities, but nothing in their line. The next night, however, Doyle did see something. At first it was just a shadow and a vague feeling that he wasn't alone in the night. He kept quiet and still to see what developed. A car pulled up outside Bodie's flat and a woman got out. Doyle wondered if it was the girlfriend. Then he heard it – click, click. It was very close. Bodie had heard it, too. He looked about but, like Doyle, saw nothing. Doyle however, being nearer, had a clearer sense of direction so silently and slowly followed the sound.

"What's up, darling?" Mary asked as Bodie met her distractedly on the doorstep.

"Just thought I heard something, that's all. Probably foxes." He hadn't told her about his paranoia or his partner being out there somewhere. For the first time it occurred to Bodie that the ghost may be real and dangerous. He became anxious as he led her slowly inside and wondered whether it would be too risky to break radio silence and contact Doyle on his R/T.

As time dragged its heels around the clock Bodie couldn't settle. He paced, he sat, he got up again. Nothing Mary could say caught his attention. He started muttering to himself, his anger rising. "I should have known. 'Get Cowley in,' Ray said. 'Make it official,' he said. But would I listen? No. I send him out there, exhausted. Why? Because I was embarrassed. Because my pride told me Doyle could deal with it; make it go away. Well, he's out there now with, with …" Bodie's limited imagination gave up at that point, but it didn't stop him pacing. Mary of course had no idea what he was talking about but wisely kept silent. He seemed to be working his way into a self-inflicted anger about 'it'. She wished she had the knowledge and experience to help him. All she could do was to be there – and she felt that that was small comfort to him. "Come on, Ray, talk to me." But the radio remained stubbornly quiet.

Doyle crept round the fire escape and looked up the stairs briefly but couldn't see anyone there. He tiptoed amongst the debris of the alleyway being careful not to trip over anything. Difficult in the darkness. Suddenly, as he skulked round the corner and out of nowhere, he was attacked. The punch in the guts had taken the wind out of him – but more than that, his attacker had been armed with a knife. Doyle cried out as fire took hold in his belly. Unable to fight back, he heard footsteps receding at a great rate. Sliding to the ground, he managed to reach his R/T before passing out.

Mary saw the tension growing inside her boyfriend and asked if she should leave. She was getting angry and frightened. She thought he'd be pleased at her unexpected late night visit. Instead, it seemed that he just wanted her to go. She had no part in his world. At last he heard the R/T crackle and he pounced on it.

"Doyle, what is it?" he yelled.

"Help," Doyle gasped.

"Where are you? Ray!"

But he was shouting into the silence. The radio was dead.

"Ray's hurt," Bodie said as though this may mean something to her. She looked blankly at him. He rooted frantically in a cupboard and thrust a torch into her hand. "He's out there somewhere and he's hurt," he said again. Arming himself with another torch and the first aid kit the pair left. By tacit agreement she helped in the search for this man called Ray. She stuck close to her boyfriend as the dark alleys frightened her. They swept their torches this way and that, Bodie tossing aside empty boxes and drums in case a body were to be found underneath. After a frustrating ten minutes, and a few further attempts on the R/T, Bodie found his friend unconscious in the muck of a restaurant midden still clutching his radio. Mary took a deep breath and tried to be brave for her boyfriend's sake, as well as for his friend. She shone the torch on the body as Bodie looked for signs of life and injury.

"He's still with us, Mary," he said at last, and then raised HQ. "3.7. Get an ambulance. It's 4.5. Stab wound to the stomach. I'll meet it at Stanford Street with the café on the corner."

He furtively pocketed Doyle's gun and, turning to Mary, ordered her to stay with the casualty and to bear down on the wound. Mary thought she was going to faint. She wasn't very good with gore. Fortunately it was very dark and if she kept her torch diverted she wouldn't have to see much. Bodie shoved some boxes under Doyle's legs then tore open all the field dressings he possessed and pushed them onto his stomach. He pressed her hands into the blood and bore his hands down on top on hers. "Keep up the pressure," he ordered then left her with the R/T showing her how to use it in an emergency. She screamed out in her head 'don't leave me' but tried to be a brave soldier and to close her thoughts to the possibility that the knife man was still out there and close by. To divert her mind she wondered just what kind of a security guard Bodie was and where Ray fitted into his life. As she waited alone in the darkness, Doyle began to stir. He murmured Bodie's name and tried to move away from his pain.

"He's getting help for you, love. Just be still," she soothed. To her dismay he shuddered. She knew little about first aid but kept up her vigil and increased pressure on the wound. "Don't leave me, Ray. Keep breathing, love. Bodie would never forgive me if you stopped. He'd take me apart, and you wouldn't want that, eh?" Her voice was shaking and tears began to flow as she heard the ambulance sirens rising. Finally she could surrender her casualty to the experts.

"Did he say anything?" Bodie asked, dropping to her side as the paramedics followed in behind.

She shook her head. "Just murmured your name. That was all. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. There'll just be loads of hanging around."

"Well, let's hang together shall we?" she suggested bravely, taking Bodie's hand. He looked like he could do with a friend. He kissed her cheek as an answer.

The medics carried out their own hasty first aid and loaded their casualty into the ambulance and set off at a great pace. Bodie and Mary sat hand in bloody hand on the other side of the stretcher. As they waited anxiously for news at the hospital, Bodie explained a little more to Mary about his job and where Ray fitted into his life.

Next day, Doyle was out of danger and transferred from intensive care to a side ward. As soon as he came to consciousness, Bodie couldn't apologise enough. Doyle, of course, forgave him and said it was carelessness on his part. He should have been more alert. He was expected to be released by the end of the week if he continued his steady progress. He wasn't able to give a detailed description of his attacker but had a vague impression that the assailant was white, male and had been wearing black clothing and a black balaclava. But he had his suspicions.

Radcliff finished his temporary contract with CI5 and returned to whatever hole he'd come from. Doyle would have loved to get something on the man, for Bodie's sake as well as his own, but there wasn't a shred of evidence against him. Bodie had gone over the area of the attack with a fine toothcomb looking for clues, as had the police, but with no result. Unknown to his operatives, Cowley had gone over Radcliff's apartment with a fine toothcomb, too. Nothing. Coincidentally, Bodie's ghost disappeared after that attack. And Doyle, for one, didn't believe in coincidences.


End file.
